


Night Go Slow

by happy_hufflepuffle



Category: One Direction (Band), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Because Phil is Also a Bookshop Owner, Dan and Phil Aren't Youtubers, Florist Phil Lester, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson Are There Too, It's a Bookshop Ok?, John Green references, Just a Lot of Book References, M/M, Roommates, They're Book Nerds, and they're cute, bookshop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_hufflepuffle/pseuds/happy_hufflepuffle
Summary: Dan's life isn't going as planned. He hates his job and his apartment and the monotony of his existence.Falling for a blue-eyed, flower-loving bookshop owner might be exactly what he needs.*on hiatus*





	1. John Green

 

> "...the voracious ambition of humans is never sated by dreams coming true, because there is always the thought that everything might be done better and again."
> 
> \- John Green,  _The Fault In Our Stars_

* * *

* * *

There is no monumental difference in the world when Dan wakes up on Tuesday morning. The couple in the apartment below him are fighting just like every morning, audible through the paper thin walls. The noise of the city outside is the same: sirens howling, car engines rumbling past, a dog barking somewhere in the distance, the screech of truck brakes. The planets have not changed their orbits, the universe has not shifted on its axis.

But as Dan lies in his cheap sheets (that still smell like the store no matter how many times he washes them) and stares at the flaking ceiling, he comes to a sudden realisation.  _This is not the life I wanted_.

This endless monotony of arguing neighbours, a shitty apartment with peeling walls and a permanent smell of dust, the constant noisy reminder filtering through the thin walls that this city has gone on before him and will continue to go on after he is gone. Cheap sheets and still-packed cardboard boxes and a slowly dying houseplant with brown, curling leaves. This is what his life has become. 

He looks at his work clothes, thrown on the chair the night before. Black jeans that smell of day-old coffee and a faded shirt bearing the Starbucks logo. Yesterday, his co-worker spilt a hot latte all down Dan's front, where it stained his tshirt, soaked into his jeans and spattered his shoes with brown splodges. He only has one pair of work jeans so he had to wash them as best he could last night, before draping them over the chair to dry.

The thought of yet another day at his dead-end job, serving endless drinks to permanently frowning, suit-wearing men and women, sportswear-toting blonde mothers, and sniggering teenagers makes him want to fall back asleep and never wake up. But he's two weeks behind on rent this month for the third time this year so he hauls himself reluctantly out of bed and trudges to the kitchen to find breakfast.

The contents of his cupboards are almost more depressing than his flat. One half full box of Shreddies and two cans of instant soup. He probably should go shopping at some point. After tipping a portion of the box into his bowl, he grabs the nearly empty milk bottle from the fridge and pours the remainder over his cereal. He suddenly remembers that he ran out of coffee yesterday morning and, after pointlessly cursing at himself for failing to buy more on the way home, decides to sneak a coffee at work. 

He eats his Shreddies at the bench, paging through a worn copy of  _Animal Farm_. It's from the one thing he's proud of in his apartment: the bookshelf bursting with hardbacks and paperbacks, crime and romance and politics and philosophy.  _To Kill A Mockingbird_ leans against  _Love, Simon_  and  _Jane Eyre_ pokes out from a mountain of John Green novels. It's his own little shrine to the worlds he'd rather be in. He finds his books at car-boot sales and garage sales, in secondhand stores amongst towering piles of used goods or in dingy bookshops tucked into crevices of buildings. He treats each excursion almost like an adventure, imagining he's the Robinson family dicovering their island or an orphan Oliver wandering the streets. And for a while he can get lost in his fantasies, forget about the lonely apartment and crappy job waiting for him. But eventually the stores close and the sky darkens and he jolts back into harsh reality. 

With reluctance, Dan pulls himself away from the gripping action of hounds chasing a terrified Snowflake from the barn, and looks up at the clock (an apartment-warming gift from his grandma). He's going to be late. Again. 

He quickly rinses his bowl in the sink before returning to the bedroom. After throwing on his shirt, he stumbles to the bathroom, pulling slightly damp jeans up his legs as he goes. Giving his mouth a brief scrub with the toothbrush first, he splashes cold water on his face and rolls on deodorant. He collects his keys on his way out. As Dan turns to lock the flat behind him, he spots the yellow eviction notice taped to the door. His landlady's a dick.

"Shit _."_  he mutters, and he feels a lump grow in his throat.

"Daniel, is that you?" His landlady's voice echoes down the stairwell from the next floor up.

Snatching the notice and shoving it into his pocket, Dan hurriedly twists the key in the lock before jogging down the stairs of his building and out to the street. He realises he's forgotten a jacket when the cold air makes his skin rise into goosebumps. With five minutes until he's due to start his shift and Starbucks a fifteen minute walk away, he reaches into his back pocket to grab his phone to order an Uber. His pocket's empty. He checks his other one. Nothing. With a sinking feeling, he pictures his phone where he left it charging on his bedside table. For a second he considers going back to get it, but then he remembers his landlady will be waiting at the top of the stairs.

He sighs heavily then, hunching his shoulders, he starts walking.  

* * *

 

For once, Dan is actually grateful to arrive at work. The blast of hot air as he opens the door is a welcome relief from the biting air outside. Of course his brief good mood doesn't last long, his manager Sandra rushing out to tell him off as she all but pushes him behind the counter. He tunes out for most of her speech, picking up a few words:  _late again, disappointing,_   _last time_ _._ It's not until he hears  _I'm sorry_  that he realises he's being fired.

"Sandra," he says, suddenly panicking, "Please, I'll do better, I, I really need this money. My landlady-"

Sandra looks sympathetic but she doesn't budge. "I'm sorry Dan. I'll give you your pay for the rest of the month, but I need workers who are reliable."

"Please, Sandra," he tries again, "I need this job-"

"I need you to finish your shift," Sandra says firmly, "Come to my office once you're finished and we'll discuss your payment options."

She leaves and Dan stands there, as two frappe-sipping teenagers and a group of sports-mums blatantly stare, and wonders how the universe could hate him this fucking much.

The teenagers leave as the sports-mums all rush up to the counter. Their faces mimic Sandra's sympathetic one and they all slip him tips. It makes him feels kind of emotional and he has to blink rapidly before he smiles a _thank_ _you_. One of them actually pats him on the hand, then they all shift to the centre of the store to wait. Dan feels strangely lonely. 

He makes their drinks on autopilot, so used to the machine, and when he calls their names and they all hurry to converge around the counter, a few of them wish him  _good luck_ and  _have a good day_. 

Then they vanish out of the door in a swirl of lycra and fancy lattes and the store is empty. Dan leans against the counter and tries not to cry as he watches colourful blobs pass the foggy windows: people outside bustling past, unaware of him.

When the door next opens, it's a stern faced woman in a pantsuit, her hair pulled back into a bun.  _The start of the office rush,_ Dan thinks. He takes her order as the bell dings repetitively, the store filling with varying shades of dark colours. When the woman moves to the side, he looks up and catches a glimpse of striking blue eyes before his vision is obscured by a large man in a black suit. 

He doesn't notice Kyle arrive, but when he turns around, his co-worker is busy preparing an assortment of drinks. Dan shoots him a weak smile before turning back to the impatient line. He's so lost in the pattern of taking orders from the suits (Hi, how can I help you, I'm afraid that combination isn't possible) that he nearly jolts in surprise when the last office worker moves aside and he finds himself staring straight into the blue eyes he saw earlier.

The boy is around the same height and age as Dan, goodlooking, with pale skin and black hair swept into a quiff, adorned with a flower crown. He's wearing dark skinny jeans and jumper with a fox print and clutching a well-loved copy of _The Miseducation Of Cameron Post._  

"Hi," Flower Boy grins.  _Northern accent_ , Dan guesses.

"Hi," Dan says in response, surprised by the genuine smile he can feel spreading across his face and making his dimples pop. He thinks it might be the first time he's properly smiled in weeks. "How can I help you today?"

"I'd like a Tall Salted Caramel Brownie Hot Chocolate please," the boy recites. Dan internally cringes at the amount of sugar Flower Boy is about to ingest. 

"Okay," he says in favour of demanding Flower Boy order a proper coffee, "Coming right up. Is there anything else?'

"Actually, yeah." Flower Boy shoots Dan a shy smile. Dan feels his hopes rise. Maybe the universe has finally stoppped fucking with him.

Flower Boy starts patting his pockets, triumphantly pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. He passes it to Dan. "Do you think you could put this up on the notice board or something?'

Just like that, Dan's hopes plummet again. He shoves the notice into his back pocket and puts Flower Boy's order into the till. "I'll see what I can do. That'll be two pounds ninety. Can I get your name for the order?"

"Phil." Flower Boy - Phil - still looks happy when he hands over the money. Dan wonders how anyone can be that cheerful at eight o'clock in the morning. Then again, Phil probably has a job he likes or at least a nice apartment with someone to come home to. 

There's no one else in the shop so Dan watches Phil wait for his drink. The boy can't seem to sit still. He fidgets relentlessly; fingers tapping against his leg, or shifting his weight, or adjusting his clothing. As much as he would love to watch all day (he's not creepy, Phil's just intriguing), eventually Dan has to hand over Phil's Tall Salted Caramel Brownie Hot Chocolate. Phil gives him another huge smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his tongue poking out between his teeth. Dan not ready for him to go. But Phil and his flower crown and his ridiculously sugary drink are already leaving, disappearing out the door and becoming yet another blurry blob moving past the fogged-up windows. _Another missed chance_ , Dan thinks, _Another way my life is failing_. 

The rest of the morning passes in a blur, then he's finishing his last-ever shift. He goes to grab his coat then remembers he forgot it this morning. Instead, he walks to Sandra's office, knocking hesitantly on the door. 

"Come in,"

Dan enters, hovering in the doorway.

"So Dan," Sandra starts, shuffling sheets of paper on her desk, "I've arranged to give you your wages for the remainder of this month, because I haven't given you notice. The money will transfer to your account on the same days it's always done since you started." She looks up at Dan, who just nods mutely.

"Dan, I do hope you find a good job." Dan takes that as his cue to leave.

"Me too. Thanks for giving me so many chances," he says quietly then he turns and walks out. 

The outside air is like a slap in the face and he instantly starts shivering as a cold wind blows straight through his thin t-shirt. The street outside is busy, people moving in a frantic rush.  _Phantom Tollbooth_ -esque he thinks. Maybe someday these people will forget to look up and London will cease to exist. 

On the topic of forgetting, he is suddenly reminded of the notice in his back pocket. He never gave it to Sandra or put it on the board and he's certainly not going back into Starbucks so he decides to throw it in the bin.  _Sorry cute, flower-crown-wearing, Phil._  

When Dan passes a rubbish bin, he pulls the crumpled paper from his pocket. He's just about to toss it when his eyes catch on a sentence.  _Accomodation Included_. Drawing the paper back from where he holds it over the reeking garbage, he uncrinkles the notice and scans it. 

 

**JOB AVAILABLE**

_Full-time position at bookshop/florists,_

_seven days a week._

_Job includes assistant work, counter work and receptionist work._

_No previous florist experience required,_

_but a love of books is necessary._

_Accomodation Included._

_To enquire, phone Phil:_

[-----------]

Dan stands there in shock for a few minutes. It's quite possibly his ideal job, apart from the floristry. What kind of person owns a _bookshop/florists_ anyway? Well, Phil apparently, he thinks wryly. There's no address or name of the so-called  _bookshop/florists_ so Dan has no idea where such a business would be located. He thinks it over as he clutches the paper tightly and heads home. 

* * *

 

As predicted, Dan's landlady is waiting at the top of the stairs. She informs Dan that rent is overdue (" _again"_ ), that he needs to be out by the end of the month, that he needs to pay that aforementioned rent... 

She would've kept talking if Dan hadn't smiled politely and explained the rent money would be in tomorrow, that he's looking at another apartment and he "really needs to make a phone call about that apartment" so he needs to go. He quickly unlocks his door and slips inside, leaving her looking after him with an expression of stunned surprise. 

Once inside, Dan rushes to his bedroom to find his phone, not bothering to toe his shoes off. The phone's buried under a mountain of books on his bedside table so he shifts them to the floor before unlocking his phone, carefully typing the number on the paper and pressing call. It rings three times before a familiar, Northern-accented voice answers. "Hello?'

"Hi, is that Phil?" Dan asks.

"Yup," Phil answers. "How can I help you, ... ?"

"Dan," he says quickly "I'm calling about the job?"

"Oh, right!" Phil exclaims, "I forgot about that."

Forgot about that. Dan mouths the words disbelievingly.

"So, d'you wanna maybe come down and check out the shop?" Phil asks. "And I guess I could interview you."

He guesses. This guy is the strangest business owner Dan has ever talked to. "Sure," he replies, "What time works for you? Also, where is the shop?"

"Oh, right," Phil says again. "Um, anytime from now is great if you're not busy," Then he gives Dan extremely complicated directions that send him running for a pen to write them on the back of the flyer. "So, yeah, see you soon, I guess."

"Bye." Dan says, slightly shell-shocked. His phone dings almost as soon as he puts it down so he checks his messages. 

 

> _Unknown Number:_ Hi it's Phil. I forgot to tell you on the phone but please bring your favourite book :)))

Dan is pretty confused but he stands and makes his way to the bookshelf. It's a nearly impossible task: bring his favourite book. He runs his finger along the different spines. Freud, Golding, Hemingway? No, too pretentious. There's a few Becky Albertalli and he considers taking Love, Simon. Is it too 'young'?  _Pick your favourite, Dan_ , he reminds himself,  _i_ _t doesn't matter what it is_. In the end, he grabs  _The Little Prince_. 

Having finally picked a book, he now has to decide what to wear for his 'interview'. He puts the book by the door and returns to his bedroom. Most of his clothes are still in the large boxes that sit in a pile in the corner of his room.

After he packed his stuff and left Uni, moved to this tiny apartment with flaking paint and a broken hot water system, he put the boxes in the corner and left them. And that's where they've stayed for the past year, slowly buried under a layer of gathering dust. He unpacked one the day after he moved, hung a jacket in the small hallway and shoved clothes into drawers. But the rest stayed untouched, and Dan relied solely off of the underwear and tshirts and two pairs of jeans from the unpacked box. 

Now he looks at the pile thoughtfully. There's no way he's wearing his uniform to the bookshop so he picks up the first box and opens it. Immediately, he discovers his black jumper with the white checked pattern and a pair of black ripped jeans. He's grateful his younger self packed so randomly but so intelligently. Pulling the clothing out, he closes up the box and returns it to the dusty pile, the thought of rifling through the remainder of the boxes too great of a task at the moment. 

He strips to his underwear in the freezing bedroom (there is next to no insulation in this building), before pulling on the jeans and jumper. He doesn't bother with a shirt underneath, instead deciding to just wear his coat overtop as an extra layer. Then he grabs his phone, wallet, shoes and flyer with directions from the floor, his jacket from the hook by the door and his keys from the hall table and sets off to meet the blue-eyed, book-loving, florist Phil.


	2. Antoine de Saint-Exupery

>  “Where are all the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert...”
> 
> ”It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.
> 
> \- Antoine de Saint-Exupery,  _The Little Prince_

* * *

* * *

 

Dan’s pretty sure he’s passed the same store three times in the past 10 minutes. He knows the area - many of the books lining his overflowing shelves come from around here - but Phil’s directions have him completely confused. He rounds yet another corner and, yep, he’s already walked past that cafe. However it is mentioned in the convoluted instructions on the back of the flyer he’s clutching, so he stops to re-examine his scrawled handwriting and re-orient himself

What feels like a million left and right turns, backtracks and double checks later, Dan finally turns a corner and discovers the shop is right across the road from him. It’s beautiful. The store is painted a dark green, the colour matching the pot plants and trailing ivy displayed alongside books on wooden shelves in the large windows either side of the storefront. Above the glass door in the centre a sign, surrounded by light bulbs, reads: _You_ _Had_ _Me_ _At_ _Aloe_ in curling script. Below it, in smaller, neater lettering, is written:  _Florist and Bookshop._ The whole thing is basically begging to be featured in an Instagram photo. Dan is impressed.

Realising he’s just been standing and staring at the store for far too long, he shakes himself out of his daze, crosses the road, and pulls the door open. A bell dings faintly as he steps over the threshold and a now-familiar, Northern-accented voice calls out “Just a minute!” from somewhere behind the bookshelves. Dan hovers awkwardly by the counter, taking the opportunity to take stock of the inside of the shop. It’s just as pretty and aesthetic as the outside, tubs of sweet-smelling flowers and pots of succulents and herbs are arranged tastefully towards the front, dark wood bookshelves blocking his view of the back. A roped-off spiral staircase is situated in the corner. The walls are a mixture of red brick and the same earthy green of the exterior and glow faintly due to the coppery fairy lights strung up around the floristry area. Exposed beams line the ceiling and there are lamps hanging from them towards the back of the store. They seem to go back quite far, so the bookshop part must be bigger than the florist section. Dan has to shrug off his coat and hang it on the convenient coat-rack due to the warmth of the shop. Judging by the faint crackling, he guesses there is a fireplace somewhere beyond his line of sight. Overall, the place feels homey and comforting and he feels some of his tension melt away. 

“Sorry I took so long,” a rapidly approaching voice says from behind the shelves, and Phil suddenly appears with a welcoming grin. “I just had to tend to the fire.”

Dan’s assumption was correct then. “No problem,” he says back, returning Phil’s smile. 

“So, how can I help you?” Phil asks, moving towards the counter.

”I’m, uh, I’m Dan?” He hears the way his own voice quirks up into a question at the end and mentally chides himself. “I called earlier about the job.”

”Oh right!” Phil’s eyes brighten in recognition. “Wait, aren’t you also the guy I gave that job advertisement to this morning in Starbucks?”

Dan feels himself blush. “Uh, yeah actually. It’s... a long story.”

Phil just laughs, tongue poking out between his teeth.  _He has a nice laugh_ , Dan thinks.

”Well, I guess I’d better interview you then, Starbucks-Dan,” Phil grins, leaning against the counter. “Did you bring your favourite book?”

Dan reaches into the pocket of his coat, pulling out the well-loved copy of  _The Little Prince_ and passing it to Phil, who studies it with a look of careful concentration. He turns it gently in his hands and, for a brief moment, Dan feels hopelessly endeared by this strange man who likes too-sugary drinks, and has such a peculiar taste in clothes, and treats books as though they’re fragile baby animals. 

Then the doorbell dings again, jolting him out of his thoughts. A good-looking man has just walked in, clutching a leather satchel. He’s a lot shorter than Dan, with blond-brown hair, blue eyes framed by large glasses and sharp cheekbones. He looks cosy, dressed in skinny jeans and a knitted maroon jumper that sits low on his collar bones, exposing lettering of a tattoo. He smiles hesitantly at Dan and calls a greeting to Phil as he heads past them in the direction of the bookshelves. “Hi, Louis.” Phil replies, before turning his attention back to Dan. 

“So,” he says, “Why  _The Little Prince_?”

Dan thinks for a moment, nibbling his bottom lip. “My grandma?” He says eventually. Phil just looks at him, obviously expecting the rest of the story.

”It was the first book anyone ever read to me,” Dan begins. “Well, not counting A-B-C, one-two-three books. It was the first proper story-book and my grandma used to read it to me whenever I stayed with her. It was also-“ he breaks off. The next part is kind of personal. But Phil’s looking at him so openly, so expectantly, and for some reason, Dan decides he trusts Phil. “It was also a big part of my coming out.”

Phil just keeps looking at him. The expression on his face is gentle and encouraging so Dan keeps going. “My parents... they didn’t exactly take the news well. So I went to my grandma’s and told her everything. She looked at me, sat me down on the sofa, and left the room. She came back with her copy of the book and then she just sat down and read the whole thing to me. And she repeated a quote. ‘there might be millions of roses in the whole world, but you’re my only, one unique rose’.”

Dan can still remember that day; leaning into his grandma’s side on the couch, despite his growing limbs making it difficult, and just crying as she calmly read their special story to him. “You’re my only, one unique rose,” she said softly. “You listen to me, Daniel. There is  _no one_ exactly like you in the world. You are unique and special and whoever you love, whatever gender they are, that does not make you any less unique and special. I am  _so_ proud of you and I love you and nothing will ever change that.”

Phil blinks furiously, attempting to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. Dan laughs softly. 

“I completely understand why it’s your favourite book,” Phil says in a watery voice as he hands the book back. “Your grandma sounds incredible.”

”Yeah,” Dan smiles as he tucks _The Little Prince_ back into his coat pocket. “She is.”

”Can I- can I hug you?” Phil asks cautiously.

”Um, okay?” He steps away from the coat-rack.

Phil steps forward and wraps Dan in a tight embrace. Dan’s not normally very good with physical contact so he’s surprised to find himself relaxing into Phil’s warmth.

Phil gives him one last squeeze then steps back. “D’you want me to give you the tour?” he asks. “I really like you so far so I want to give you the job but it’s up to you whether you take it or not.”

Dan forces himself not to think about the  _I really like you_ and instead focus on  _I want to give you the job_. “I kind of need this job so I’ll definitely take it,” he answers truthfully. “But yeah, a tour would be nice, thanks.”

At that moment, the bell dings yet again and yet another attractive man is walking into the shop. Dan thinks Phil’s shop might be magic. This guy has a green beanie over long curly brown hair that falls to his shoulders, eyes that seem impossibly green against the backdrop of the bookshop walls, and a jawline that could cut glass. Like the man before - Louis, Dan remembers - he’s wearing skinny jeans and a sweater, this one a soft grey and a few sizes too big. He shoots Dan and Phil a wide smile, which they return, Phil happily and Dan considerably less confidently.

”Louis is in the back.” Phil stage-whispers with a knowing look, to which the stranger flushes a bright red and whispers a quick _thanks_ before hurrying towards the bookshelves.

Dan watches him disappear behind the shelves, turning back when he hears Phil speak. “It’s my mission,” he’s saying quietly, “To get those two together.”

Dan has to smile at that. Despite not even knowing the guy for 24 hours, he already thinks he and Phil are going to be good friends.

 

* * *

 

As promised, Phil takes him on a tour of the store. Past the first set of bookshelves, the space opens up slightly. The area is still filled with shelving and books (organised by subject, Dan notices, when he takes a closer look), and a few people browsing, but the back wall features a large fireplace surrounded by comfy-looking couches. Louis and Harry are curled together on one of the seats, already engrossed in what appears to be a conversation about symbolism in literature.

Phil points out a door that apparently leads to a garden area and Dan finds himself wondering a) how Phil managed to find such an incredible location and b) how he afforded it. It’s not any of his business though so he pushes the thought away and opens the door to take a look at the garden. The temperature has somehow dropped even lower in the short space of time he’s been inside, so he only takes a brief glance before retreating to the warmth of the interior. From what he can see though, the garden area is gorgeous, complete with a fountain in the center. 

Once he’s shut the door firmly and returned to the welcome heat of the fireplace, Phil starts talking. “I normally put blankets out in case anyone wants to sit outside, but it’s far too cold at the moment. Will you need the accomodation?”

”Uh, yeah.”

”Okay,” Phil chirps, looking pleased. “You’ll be sharing my flat - it has an extra bedroom and I need a flat mate. It’s right upstairs so I can show you around if you’d like?”

”Okay.” Dan smiles weakly, suddenly feeling very fragile. It’s the warmth, he thinks. Not only of the blazing fire but the people who exist in this space alongside him. His apartment feels a world away and he finds himself dreading his return.  _But_ , a tiny hopeful voice whispers inside his head,  _you’ll be living here soon_. It’s the first time in nearly two years that any of his thoughts have felt remotely hopeful. 

He follows Phil back to the florist area and to the roped-off staircase in the corner, then up the twisting stairs to a door. “It has a street entrance too,” Phil explains as he opens the door and ushers Dan inside. “But I like having access to it from inside the shop too.” Dan just nods mutely, looking around the living room that he’s now standing in. The room is big and modern, with a TV on one wall flanked by two doors. He notices the gaming equipment strewn around the base of the TV. “I have a ton of games in a box in my flat somewhere,” he says, motioning to the controllers. “I was going to just sell them but I’ll bring them with me if you want?”

Phil’s eyes light up. “That’d be so cool!” He replies excitedly. “I can’t wait to beat you at Mario Kart.”

”Hardly,” Dan scoffs, his confidence rising due to Phil’s enthusiasm. “I am the Mario Kart Master.”

It seems to break the ice between them, because they spend the remainder of the tour discussing video games and jokingly arguing about who’s better. Phil’s place is a lot nicer then Dan’s. It’s also probably twice the size of his, if not more. An archway opposite the TV connects the living room to the kitchen/dining area and the doors either side of the TV open up to the two bedrooms. The bedrooms are nice too, spacious with large windows looking out over the garden area Dan saw earlier and connected by a balcony. Phil points out the laundry and bathroom (there’s a bath! God, Dan’s missed taking baths) and then before he knows it, the tour’s over and they’re walking back down the stairs to the shop.

Phil has told Dan he’ll just take the rent out of his pay per week, which works perfectly for Dan and then, when Dan explains somewhat sheepishly that his landlady is evicting him, Phil insists that he move in as soon as possible, even going as far as to rope in Harry and Louis (who apparently both have cars and are willing to help) to transport Dan’s stuff. Phil tells him repeatedly how excited he is for Dan to move in and an emotion that feels suspiciously like happiness quietly begins to radiate from Dan’s heart and spread through his veins. 

He eventually collects his coat from the coat-rack, Phil promising to show up at his apartment at mid-day the next day with Harry and Louis in tow. The outside air is freezing but Phil waves goodbye, one side of his flower crown slipping down over his ear, and Dan feels strangely warm the whole way home.

 

The first thing he does when he gets home is call his grandma. The first thing out of his mouth is “I met someone.”

“He sounds special, Daniel,” is all she says once he’s finished talking about Phil, but there’s an unmistakable warmth to her tone that has him flushing like Harry did earlier that day, and makes the fluttering in his chest grow. When she finds out about about the flat and the well-paying job, she nearly cries. She’s seen his apartment - she helped him move in - and the idea of a  _nice_ place is as incredible to her as it is to Dan. 

“Maybe I’ll come up and visit once you’ve settled in.” she tells him, to which Dan agrees and insists that he pays for her train ticket with the money from his new job. 

“I love you.” he says before he hangs up and he means it with every fibre of his being. 

“I know, Honey,” she says, and he can practically _feel_ her smile through the phone. “I love you so much. Now go pack!”

So he does.

Most of his clothing is still in boxes so all he has to do is pull an outfit for the following day out of the box he opened that morning, before packing the clothes in his drawers into their old box. He manages to find a small bag in the back of his wardrobe and he packs his toiletries into it. He chucks the two cans of soup in there as well as he can’t really bring himself to waste them by throwing them out. The furniture he leaves; he’ll put it into storage or sell it or something. There’s only one empty box left so he texts Phil to ask if he has any spare boxes. Phil replies with a yes, followed by a string of excited emojis. It makes Dan smile. Putting his phone on the table, he grabs the remaining box and packs his spare sheets and pillow. Then he hauls all the boxes to the living room, plugs his phone in to charge, retrieves  _The Little Prince_ from his coat and gets ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is (finally) up! It’s kind of short but since felt bad about not writing for a while, here we are. Longer chapter coming soon with Dan moving in and starting the job :)  
> Let me know what you think, kudos and comments are appreciated.
> 
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> Come find me on tumblr ——— > timeturnered


	3. A. A. Milne

 

>  "I was walking along looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasn't anymore."
> 
> \- A. A. Milne,  _Winnie The Pooh_

* * *

* * *

Wednesday brings with it a strange reprieve from the usual mixture of noise Dan is used to by now. There are no arguing neighbours this morning and the hum of the city is muted. The sky outside is visible through a gap in the curtain - too dark for it to be anywhere close to sunrise - so Dan reaches for his phone on his bedside table to check the time. 5:22am. Outside, a vehicle rumbles past. Despite the time, the possible danger, the cold, Dan is seized by a sudden, inexplicable urge to leave his apartment and walk out into the darkness.

Throwing the covers back, he winces briefly at the chill of the air. Winter is rapidly approaching, the first of December only three days away according to his phone, and his apartment is a harsh reminder of the coming season. Hopefully Phil's place at least has insulation. Deciding to wait before focusing on the impending relocation, Dan pushes all thoughts of Phil and his flat to the back of his mind. He forgoes getting changed into proper clothes; he doubts wearing pajamas will matter at 5:30 in the morning. He does make sure to dig socks out of a box and grab his jacket before heading out though. It's too cold for just the pajamas. 

Outside is as icy as he suspected, the bite of the early-morning air stinging his cheeks and causing his eyes to water. But something about his small act of spontaneity and the city at this time of day has him feeling a sense of relief so strong that the emotion is almost a physical thing. He had no idea how badly he needed this.

The streetlights cast feeble puddles of warm light over the footpath in the dark. A few buildings already have light spilling out through foggy glass, their occupants no more than fast-moving shadows silhouetted against glowing window frames. Dan allows himself a moment to just watch the early risers rushing through their morning routines. He wonders if they're aware of the lives around them, how complete strangers' lives intersect theirs, whether it be a harried parent on the bus, or a busker on the street, or even a headphone-wearing student crossing the road beside them at some point in the coming day. He doubts it. People, he has found, are often so singularly minded. They tend to only notice the things that slow them down, traffic or crowds or other large forces. Otherwise they just keep moving, head down, unsmiling, so focused on whatever they're doing next that they lose sight of their current task.  _Phantom Tollbooth_ , he thinks again. _Everyone in a hurry to get nowhere_. 

Dan pulls his gaze away from the anonymous city-dwellers. He picks a direction at random, puts one foot in front of the other, and walks.

He doesn't know how long he walks for - he has no way to tell the time, his phone left behind (a conscious decision this time). He just allows himself to exist in his surroundings as the sky gradually lightens and the city slowly stirs to life like some massive beast awakening from a deep sleep. Eventually his stomach growls and he ventures into a bakery, fishing money out of his coat pocket. 

The store has the same dreamlike quality as the half asleep city. The doughy smell of freshly baked bread fills Dan's senses as he pushes the door open, the shop deserted apart from a baker shelving still-warm loaves. The man shoots him a tired smile which Dan returns as he selects a fresh pastry and moves towards the counter. He wanders back out into the dawn after he pays, biting into his breakfast as he goes.

Already, the streets are busier. Cars rush past, horns blaring occasionally, and people knock into him on the pavement. The morning quiet has been shattered. Dan feels the loss of it like a tangible thing, an ache beneath his ribs. _Not everything lasts_ , he reminds himself as retraces his steps and ignores the accidental shoulder barges of city dwellers. 

* * *

It's 1:32 and Dan is wandering round his apartment. He has a loop: living room, kitchen, living room, bedroom, bathroom. Despite how much he hates this place, he can't help but feel strangely attached to it. The creaky board outside his bedroom door; the temperamental water temperature dial in the shower; the cupboard under the sink, jammed due to water-swollen plasterboard. He's glad to leave it though. The creak gives him a fright every time he stands on it, he's been scalded and frozen so many times, just from turning the dial a millimetre, and he often falls over in his attempts to wrestle the cupboard door open. Still, hindsight has a tendency to paint things in a rosy glow and the flaws of his apartment are no exception. 

Living room, kitchen, living room- 

His intercom buzzes. 

He presses the button. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Phil!"

"And Harry!"

"And Louis!"

"It's kind of obvious that you're both here isn't it?"

"Should I say my name too?" It's a voice Dan hasn't heard before. 

"Um, come on up, I guess." Dan answers, suddenly unsure.

The lift in his building is always broken, so it takes ten minutes for them to arrive. Dan already has his door open and is leaning against the door frame. An unfamiliar guy and Harry appear first, clutching folded-down cardboard boxes and looking surprisingly well-rested considering they've just climbed 10 flights. Louis and Phil are next, both red-faced and panting. "Bloody kale smoothie-drinking, yoga-going, stupidly fit, mother fu-" Louis mutters then suddenly sees Dan. "Oh, hi!"

"Hi," Dan smiles. Harry is glaring at Louis and mumbling something about  _well I did offer to make you one_ but he's blushing slightly (Dan assumes it's due the _stupidly fit_ part of Louis' rant). Dan looks at Phil, who is looking straight back at him. "Sorry, I forgot to say that Harry was bringing Liam along to help." 

Liam attempts to wave and nearly drops his armful of boxes. 

"Uh, no that's fine, um, come in?" Dan says. The four of them follow him into the apartment, Liam dumping his armful of boxes in favour of assessing the weight of Dan's packed boxes. Phil, in an obvious attempt to seem useful, gathers Liam's abandoned box stack. "So what else do you need to pack?' he asks, looking around. "I can help."

"It's mainly dismantling furniture and packing books," Dan replies, pointing at the bookshelf that dominates the small living room. Dan had always thought the expression 'eyes lighting up' was something that only happened in fiction but Phil rapidly disproves that assumption. 

"Should I start taking these to the cars?" Liam asks, still experimentally picking up and putting down boxes. Dan nods. "Yeah, uh, that'd be good, thanks."

"I'll do furniture!" Louis says quickly, probably so Liam can't ask for help with the lifting, Dan thinks wryly. 

Liam turns to look at Harry, who says "I'll help Lou." before Liam can even open his mouth. Liam's clearly used to whatever Louis and Harry have going on because he just sighs and says "Keys?"

Louis and Harry both throw car keys at Liam then turn to Dan expectantly as Liam picks up a box and walks out. The pocket of happiness that started growing in Dan's chest yesterday expands. He finds himself smiling as he directs Harry and Louis to his bedroom so they can take his bed apart. Part of him feels guilty for giving them tasks, the same part that often whispers about how useless he is, how people don't really like him, why would anyone want to  _help_. Today though, he's able to push it down. It's definitely due to the lightness in his chest.

Louis and Harry are already in their own little bubble, their conversation an apparent continuation of their symbolism discussion the previous day. Dan leaves them to it, returning to the living room as Louis' voice echoes behind him: "They're returning to a fictional world war three, Harry. The dynamics of the boys on the island  _clearly_ symbolise the relationship between war and power!" 

Phil is standing by the bookshelf, running a finger almost reverently along the spines. "Should we get started?" Dan says and Phil jumps. 

"You gave me a fright," he says, but his tone isn't angry and he starts unfolding boxes. Dan pulls books off the shelves and packs them carefully. In the bedroom, Louis and Harry are still arguing ("But, Lou, it's all about Freud and hidden natures and how society is a construct that collapses under pressure!") and Dan is hit by the realisation of how much his life has changed in less than 48 hours. His flat may be packed into boxes but it's never felt more full.

Before he knows it, the last box has been taken to the cars, the bed and bookcase dismantled and packed, and he's turning the key in the lock for the last time. He joins Phil in following Louis, Harry and Liam down the stairs and as Phil turns and shoots him a small, reassuring smile, Dan feels strangely like he's come home.

* * *

The shop has a whole different atmosphere to it, now that Dan knows he's living here. The green seems more calm, the lights warmer. Even the swirling calligraphy on the sign seems to welcome him in. It's slightly wishful thinking but Dan allows himself to believe it. 

They all lift boxes with the exception of Phil, who jogs ahead to unlock the flat's street entrance before returning to pick one up. Then they're ferrying Dan's belongings up the stairs and into the living room where the boxes start forming a small mountain. When the last box is brought up, Phil suggests they help set up Dan's room and all five of them pile in to construct the bed and bookcase, Dan unpacking and putting away the contents of random boxes. By the time the cardboard has all been flattened and the bed made (Phil takes one look at Dan's sheets and insists on lending him a nice set until he can get new ones) and Dan's books all restored to their former home on the bookshelf, darkness has fallen. Dan suddenly feels guilty for taking up so much of everyone's day and is about to say as much, when Phil takes a step back, smiles and says "Mid-week Munch, anyone?"

Louis and Harry appear out of nowhere and agree before promptly vanishing again. "Sounds good." Liam says, waving goodbye to Dan as he walks out of the flat. Phil turns to Dan to explain. "Wednesday is family dinner night. Or, kind-of-family dinner night. We're not actually related as you may have noticed. Anyway, we all go out for dinner on Wednesdays and each flat takes turns picking the restaurant. Now that you're here, you can help find a place for next week! It's Harry and Louis' turn to pick the place tonight so the food will definitely be good."

Dan just nods, stunned into speechlessness by how casually everyone has just accepted him. Mid-week Munch is an apparent tradition and, despite not having had his first day yet, he's instantly become a part of it.

Phil's phone makes a noise and he glances at it before continuing, "Harry says the place isn't super fancy but dress nice still."

"Okay." Dan manages.

"Welcome to the family." Phil says it jokingly but there's an air of truth to his statement that has Dan's chest flooding with unexpected warmth.

"Thanks." is all he can say back, but Phil smiles and Dan knows he understands. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this (Night Go Slow by Catey Shaw) is one of my favourites so if you want to give it a listen...  
> Kudos and comments are appreciated, and I'll try to keep this fic going.
> 
>  
> 
> Come find me on tumblr if you want :) ----- timeturnered


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